Salena
by IGdude117
Summary: When the Armory World of Highgate is engulfed in a brutal civil war, Sentinel Pilot Kaarel Deroin and the Cadian 413th Regiment fight to restore Imperial rule. Little do they know that as they fight through the barren, unforgiving landscape, much darker forces linger in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Image credit goes to guywiththesuitcase on DeviantArt.
1. Chapter 1: Salena

Sergeant Kaarel Deroin snapped awake, the bare remnants of a bad dream fading away like an old scar from a long-gone battlefield. The girl sleeping in the covers beside him stirred, yawning.

"Bad dream again?"

Kaarel rubbed his eyes tiredly, unease settling over him.

"You know how the Warp is. Messes with your frakking head."

Anna Renzen, his on-again, off-again girlfriend stood, gathering her clothes from the corner. She glanced back as she buttoned her fatigues on, smiling roguishly.

"What, you didn't have a restful night?"

Kaarel laughed, standing as he glanced around his quarters, noting the distinct lack of alcohol.

"You're just lucky they gave us separate rooms again. Remember Xadruna V?"

Anna grimaced with the memory.

"I spent too many _frakking_ days with you grox-herders to _want_ to remember that."

He smiled, pulling on his pants and shirt in succession as he ran through his duties for the day.

"Remember that we have a mission briefing at 0500 hours."

Anna blew a kiss to him as she opened his door, winking once. Kaarel sighed, letting his head hit the stiff pillow of his bunk.

As his old man would say, _Emperor knows, that's some woman._

* * *

The four Squadron leaders of the Cadian 413th's Sentinel Section waited around the dark lectern-projector, trading lho-sticks and jokes.

"So the bastard takes his damned glass of Amasec and throws it in the Commissar's face, and the frakking Commissar was so shocked, he had no idea what to do!"

A chorus of laughs emitted from the four men, causing Sergeant Alvaro de Burgos to smile in satisfaction.

"What'd he do after that?" asked Nino Piscella, leader of Delta Squadron.

"Well, so get this- the frakking Commissar is straight out of the Schola on Ceuter Prime, and he doesn't realize, or doesn't remember that he can shoot the frakking Colonel any time he wants, so he _frakking apologizes_ to the man."

More laughter.

"It- it wasn't until the frakking fool left the table that the Colonel looks to me and says 'Emperor, I'm glad he didn't read the manual."

More howls of laughter filled the empty briefing room.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Kaarel took another swig from his flask, wincing slightly at the raw taste of the Rotgut that one of the infantry guys had been selling around the ship.

"Officer on Deck!" came a shout from behind them.

Instinctively, all four sergeants snapped to parade-ground attention, standing stiffly and staring straight forward, their arms and legs locked into place, a habit of the Whiteshield Training battalions back on Kasyr Holn.

"At ease."

The familiar form of Colonel Celine Vandilus came into view, and the four men relaxed slightly. Wincing slightly, Kaarel slipped his flask back into his pocket, turning his attention to the Colonel. Colonel Vandilus, nicknamed "Old Broadsides" by the enlisted men and women, was a stern, uncompromising colonel who believed in getting the job done, no matter the cost.

While the nickname wasn't an insult, it wasn't meant to be endearing either. Old Broadsides would just as soon leave a soldier behind as she would save them.

The woman, who looked to be around 40 (although the rejuvenat treatments no doubt played a part), was almost always expressionless, her violet eyes hard and intense, almost like the gaze of an eagle.

Many of Kaarel's friends said that her gaze was a lot like the expressions one could see on statues of the Emperor or the Space Marines, and Kaarel was inclined to agree.

Plus, having been looked in the eye by a Space Marine more than once, Kaarel would know more than most.

"Highgate," the Colonel said, switching on the lectern and projecting a holographic image of a large planet in front of them.

"Capital planet of the Vallis system, and a prime strategic target for the enemies of the Imperium."

She tapped a few buttons on a data-slate, changing the hologram to show a closer shot. Massive cities with factories and colossal manufactorums, divided by long stretches of gray, decaying forests and flat, featureless plains rubbed shoulders with massive oceans.

"Highgate is an Armory World. This means that it stores trillions of tons of equipment, vehicles, and weapons for use by the Imperial Guard."

She switched the view again, barely allowing the men time to keep up.

"Five Terran years ago, a PDF General by the name of Andrey Mobekk caused a large percentage of the planet's PDF and civilian populace to secede from the Imperium of Man and steal many of these weapons, declaring a war on the Imperium and attacking the loyalists left on planet."

Pessolt Dunkel, nicknamed "the Priest", growled in anger, his former experience as a Ministorum Priest eliciting pure hatred from his eyes.

"Segmentum Command has deemed the reclamation of this planet a top priority, and as such, has seen fit to use Army Group Constans to take it back."

She glanced around at them, making eye contact with each, as if to underscore the gravity of the situation.

"The loyalist forces have forced the civil war into a stalemate. General Mobekk, who has announced that he will conquer the entire subsector, is trying his hardest to use the bastardized weapons at his disposal to swing the tide, and unfortunately, it is working."

"The 413th will deploy _here_ , right behind the frontlines at a large forward operating base named 'Camp Wirtz'. From there, we will join a large armored push in the hopes of making a breakthrough at the forward rebel positions. This is where you come in."

A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Kaarel's stomach. As usual, it seemed, his squadron would be right at the front lines, scouting out enemy positions and risking their necks for some backwater planet.

"All four squadrons will be forward deploying with the hopes of scouting out enemy positions within the ruins of Aylassea, where some of the heaviest rebel vehicles are concentrated. Alpha will be deploying first, pushing ahead to scout the main positions. I want Beta and Gamma to support them, as well as looking for gaps in the lines. Beta, you'll be to the far left of Alpha, Gamma to the right. Delta will stay with the Infantry, acting as a support force. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good. I'll send more details later via the data-slate or by courier. I expect a clean, problem-free deployment, gentlemen, and I'll be counting on you to give us good intel. Emperor be with you all."

They saluted as the Colonel walked out.

When she left the room, they all looked at each other, a sense of unease settling over them that came more from fear than the influence of the Warp.

* * *

"How are we doing, Luc?" Kaarel asked as he walked across the tall gantry above the large vehicle bay of the Troop Ship, _Pride of Khan_.

Luc Wanner, head mechanic of Kaarel's squad, looked up from his position on the scaffolding, putting down his cumbersome welding tool and flipping him his darkened visor, revealing a soot-covered, but happy face.

"If it isn't my favorite Sentinel Pilot," he said, grinning.

Waving Kaarel downwards, he stood up, stretching a bit as he inspected the dormant Cadian-Pattern Sentinel, _Salena_.

"What's the deal, Luc?"

"Well, the primary gyrostabilizers are still giving us a spot of trouble, and Techpriest _Volgner_ over there still has perform a few rites or something, but it's mostly good. We fixed up the ammo feed, as you suggested, and the autoloader function _should_ be working fine."

" _Should_ be? I'd like to know with more certainty before I go scrabbling over _Salena_ while I'm getting shot at like a grox during hunting season…"

Luc smiled, slapping a hand on the gray-and green armor plating of the Sentinel.

"It's an autocannon, Kaarel. If you do your job right, there won't be anything standing when you're done," he said, smiling.

Kaarel sighed in resignation.

"As long as it's ready by the time we drop…"

"That's in, what, five standard days? Sure. The rest of Gamma's walkers are in good shape, so yours is the last we're working on."

"I'm flattered," Kaarel said sarcastically. "Mind if you give me a minute with the old girl?"

Luc rolled his eyes, gathering his tools.

"I swear, you pilots and your machines. You owe me an Amasec, though, alright?"

Kaarel stuck his foot in the foot rung below the sentinel's cockpit module, pressing the unlocking stud and pulling the small door in the side of the Sentinel's armor open, squeezing inside. Remembering something, he popped his head out of the door, narrowly avoiding hitting his head, and shouted at Luc.

"Remember the bet we made yesterday? Call it even."

Luc struggled to remember for a second, then, recalling the bet involving the main issue with the _Salena_ 's Agrippina Pattern Mark II Autocannon, scowled darkly and stalked off to work on another sentinel.

Closing the door shut, Kaarel felt at home immediately, settling into the cushioned, form-fitting seat and relishing the familiar feel of the cockpit, his feet immediately going to the floor pedals and his hand switching on the internal lights by pure habit.

He had been beaten mercilessly enough by his drill instructor back on Cadia to know exactly where it was.

The dim red lights inside flickered to life, and he went through the sequence, turning on the internal systems, the medium-sized screen flickering to life. The screen, which was a little bigger than a normal piece of parchment, displayed _Salena's_ external camera view, as well as being the main hub for any of her functions that were not directly bound to button, lever, or stud.

++INPUT COMMAND CODE++

Kaarel typed the number on the small popup keypad on the screen, prompting it to recognize his code and display a number of options, ranging from direct camera feed, infrared view, as well as a slew of commands for broadcasting messages and weapons status.

Kaarel reached forward and pulled the lever by the two closed window slits, prompting the two window panels to pop open, giving a much greater view.

The once-muffled sound of sparking fuses, binary code, and hissing tools became clear once more, filtering through the now-open panels.

Pulling the lever once more, the narrow slits in each of the panels once more became the only immediate method of sight, and Kaarel leaned back, putting his hands behind his head, and savoring the feeling.

Here, he was at home. He knew every function, every combination, and every possible application of everything in this walker.

He slipped his fingers through the handle rings on the control levers, brushing his fingers across the firing triggers, becoming used to the cool plasteel of the triggers, and quickly making sure the safety was on, so as not to send dozens of high-velocity autocannon rounds through the wall.

 _This machine is discharged into your care. Fight with this machine, and guard it from the shame of defeat. Serve this machine, as you would have it fight for you._

 _I shall._

He had always remembered the Ceremony of Commission as an oddity. The archaic practices of the Adeptus Mechanicus hadn't made sense to him at first, but as his Sentinel had become his companion throughout some of the most dark times in his life, he had begun to believe, in a tiny, infinitesimal way, in the Machine-Spirit.

The way that Salena and he worked together, the smoothness in which she responded to his commands and the hundreds of times she had helped him defend his Imperium and saved his life in the process, convinced him that there was something to the Enginseers' love of Machines.

"How about it, _Salena_?" he said, smiling to himself.

"You ready for another go?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Although I usually write Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfiction on here, but I've always been a huge fan of the Warhammer 40k universe. Unfortunately, since I made the move to college, I've found that I don't have the time or money to seriously continue the hobby, but I've still always found the lore and universe fascinating.**

 **So here is my foray into Warhammer 40k fanfiction.**

 **I know that a lot of the dialogue and, well, spelling, lacks that distinct British-English feel to it. Unfortunately, I'm a dumb American, so even if I tried spelling it the same way that, say, Dan Abnett (whom I enjoy reading) does, it would still interrupt the flow that I get when I'm writing.**

 **So I'll do my best to create some sort of an amalgamation of that classic 40k feel and my own writing style.**

 **Stay tuned for my next update!**

 **-IGdude117**

 **P.S. (In case you don't want to read my profile, the IG in IGdude117 stands for, (duh) Imperial Guard, my favorite faction)**


	2. Chapter 2: The Invasion of Highgate

Kaarel Deroin had always been something of a rogue soldier. From the time he entered the Whiteshield Training Regiment on his home world of Kasyr Holn, to the time he left it, but a year before the arrival of Abaddon's 13th Black Crusade, he had always been fond of machines and vehicles more than he had of rifles and grenades.

While the Imperial Guard took pride in its war machines, many of Kaarel's Whiteshield friends had looked down on him, whispering that a life in a vehicle was no match for life as a glorious infantryman, fighting the enemies of the Imperium face-to-face.

And Kaarel was fine with that- if they wanted to die on the claws of some abominable beast, then they could.

He had always felt that it was better to face the enemies of the Imperium on _his_ terms, with a layer of ceramite between him and them. Whether that was cowardice or pragmatism, he had never really known, although he _had_ often been called the former.

* * *

"So we deploy here, on the far right flank of Alpha, and try to push around and find a gap in the rebel lines. Given that there are still substantial ruins, we'll wind our way around the streets and report barricades, occupied buildings, positions, and vehicles if we see them."

Ricardo Strohmann, the third member of Gamma Squad, cleared his throat. Kaarel looked at him pointedly.

"So, what, we just poke at the rebels until they decide to let loose on whatever scavenged tech they have? I mean, Emperor's Light, Kel, they could have Leman Russes in there!"

Kaarel sighed, taking another sip of his recaf in a vain attempt to stave off the pounding headache he had.

The cantina was mostly empty, and empty trays of gruel sat next to them, wiped clean by the hungry pilots.

"Essentially, yes. We find out where the heretics are so that the treadheads can blast them back to whatever hellhole they came out of. If worst comes to worse, we can deal with anything short of heavy armor. Strohmann, your Multi-Melta should even be enough to punch through Russ armor."

"Or maybe Strohmann could break wind on them and do the same job," Anna said, grinning.

She and Kaarel both cracked up as Strohmann scowled.

"You two just keep ganging up on me, don't you?"

"Just because you make it _so_ easy, Ricardo," Kaarel said, smiling.

"Anyways, our objective here isn't to engage. In fact, if you can help it, avoid engaging altogether. We'll be operating under Stealth Protocol out there, so the objective is to sight and report. The Navy pukes can't seem to get a solid view beneath the rain clouds, so it's up to us and the footsloggers to make sure that the treadheads don't get knocked out. Clear?"

The other two nodded.

As Ricardo walked out, grumbling about what he had to put up with, Anna laid her hand on top of Kaarel's gently, looking at him.

"I know what you're going to say."

"I didn't say any-" she began.

"Look, the bottom line is that every time we decide to do this, we run the risk of putting the both of us out of commission if one of us dies. Every time we try to keep this relationship going, we compromise the mission."

"Since when do you care about the mission?"

Kaarel's gaze hardened, and Anna slumped slightly, frustrated. She realized that she had phrased it wrong, and that any chance of a meaningful conversation was quickly slipping away.

"Look- I didn't mean it that way, but you have to understand how this feels for me. I never expected anything meaningful out of this, but anything we can do to find comfort, even in each other, will help the days pass by, don't you think? I know we said no attachments, but I-"

"I know. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the same way. But right now, on the eve of our invasion, I can't afford to do this. Emperor knows, Anna, this isn't personal- I do have feelings for you, but you know just as well as I do that romance isn't really compatible with the Guard."

"We could make it be," she said, hope on her face.

Leaning forward, Kaarel kissed her softly on the lips, holding her cheek. Then, breaking away, he nodded once, chastising himself silently. He sighed, flipping open his packet of lho sticks and lighting one in his mouth, standing up.

As he walked out, he looked back once, smiling sadly at Anna, and walked out, regret filling his heart as he left.

* * *

 _We are the Death. We are the Nightmares you see. We are the Darkness._

 _The blank, blurry figures advanced forward, walking through the green jets of flame as if they were nothing but warm gusts of wind._

 _As the legions marched forth, Kaarel could see his homeworld embroiled in emerald flames._

 _He could hear his mother's screams as faceless men killed her._

 _These weren't the insanity-inducing forms of Chaos, however. They weren't the baroque, intimidating figure of Traitor Astartes, nor were they the self-mutilating traitors that had betrayed his brothers and embroiled the entire Cadian sector in neverending war._

 _These were something else._

 _Darker._

 _It was like being underwater, and seeing the bottomless chasm that held any number of untold horrors, drawing him closer and closer to the cliff's edge and that horrible, dropping feeling in the pit of the stomach._

 _Hope fled. Even the Emperor's light was nothing in the face of such cold, emotionless darkness._

* * *

Kaarel snapped awake, sitting forward abruptly, panting slightly.

In front of him, the Servitor continued on, relentless and unknowing of Kaarel's lack of consciousness.

++ _Item Two through Eight Hundred- 50 mm Agrippina Pattern Mark II Autocannon, self-loaded_. _Item Eight Hundred through Eight Hundred and One- Ares Pattern Mark XI Hunter Killer Missile, manually-loaded. Item Eight Hundred and One through Eight Hundred and Six, Armor Plating, Grade Alpha-7 Ceramite. Item Eight Hundred and seven…++_

As dim memories of faceless men filled his thoughts, then slipped away, Kaarel calmed his heartbeat, focusing on where he was and what he was doing.

Wiping his face of sweat, Kaarel glanced around the armory room. The room, which was large enough to hold a ten-by-ten section of Chimera APCs, was studded with barred windows, an Administratum, Munitorium, or Mechanicus scribe, as well as several alcoves where one could get an inventory list from a lifeless servitor.

The Servitor in front of Kaarel had his body fused to a cylinder sprouting with wires and heavy cables, no doubt a direct uplink to the hangar's inventory system. The servitor himself had gray, lifeless skin, and dim eye optics that glowed slightly, staring through Kaarel as if he weren't even there. In two spindly mechanical appendages, the servitor clutched a data-slate.

Kaarel idly wondered who he had been. No doubt he had been a guardsman, or perhaps an indentured laborer who had incited the wrath of his Mechanicus overlords, thus earning him an eternity as a lifeless cyborg.

He wondered if the man's soul was by the Emperor's side, or still locked within the lifeless carcass, doomed to struggle against the bonds of his own body for a lifetime.

Kaarel suppressed a shudder.

 _++...stabilizers. Item Nine Hundred and five through Two Hundred Thousand, assorted cables and wires (+ref. AMI-IGV-2209-4001-0077+)_

"Servitor!" Kaarel said sternly.

The machine paused, as if it were caught off guard.

"End Inventory Report. Send full details to data-slate, Command Code CIG-SVP-1956-2311-4790."

 _++Command Acknowledged. Command Code Acknowledged. Transmitting details in T-50 seconds++_

Stretching, Kaarel stood, exiting the Logistics Bay, popping a lho stick back into his mouth, savoring the sweet smoke.

He knew that he had nothing to worry about. If this mission went bad, then he would die, one of millions of his Cadian brothers and sisters to fall in service to the Imperium. As Confessor Gaelus would say, 'better to die for the Emperor, than for yourself'.

If not, he would return to the ships, and go to the next warzone.

He knew that the former was a lot more likely, but a part of him refused to give up hope that he might be released from service after his years of fighting and killing were behind him, and allowed to start a new life on some agri-world somewhere.

As Magnicus Lidie, the famed Keynovian poet had written, 'such is the life of the Imperial Guard'.

* * *

The smell of incense filled the dim, grease-filled troop bay of the massive troop ship as Confessor Gaelus, the Regimental Priest, waved a censer around as he stalked across the massive ship, pausing by clusters of guardsmen strapping into the many harnesses that ringed the vehicle mounts.

"As you march forth unto the _vile_ land of the _heretic_ , carry with you at all times the Emperor's Light. In your darkest moments, let His infinite wisdom guide you, a beacon to the lost. Bring the searing heat of piety and zealotry to the enemy and purge his blasphemy with the righteous anger of the Imperium."

Caprice Machel, a pilot in Alvaro de Brugos' Alpha Squad, waved the Confessor over, who wandered by, filling the already unpleasant air with the cloyingly sweet scent of incense.

"Are you coming down to the surface, Father Gaelus?"

The elderly priest, who had a bald, shiny scalp with dozens of neural implants and cords running from the back of his head, as well as what looked to be lines of scripture tattooed around his face, smiled tiredly.

"I'm afraid not this time, child. The time has passed where I can bring the Emperor's light to the vile enemy. I shall remain on the ships and pray for you."

Ricardo smiled lopsidedly as he strapped himself in, his Sentinel in the stowed position, the cockpit laying at rest near ground level, the gyroscopic stabilizers completely compressed.

"How many kills does good old _Corlionan_ have, anyways, Father?"

The old priest's Eviscerator Chainsword, which they had seen put to deadly use when they had fought the vile Tyranids on Sepparus Prime, had more than three hundred kills to its name before the old priest had even gotten his hands on it.

" _Corlionan_ is in temporary retirement until such a time as I can return to the Ministorum."

A group of Guardsmen knelt in prayer called his name, and the old man bowed slightly, waving his incense around even more.

"Good luck down there, guardsmen."

Anna, a few seats aside from them, snorted in amusement.

"You ever notice how they always say guards _men_? Why not Guardswomen?"

Caprice smiled broadly as she flipped through the worn pages of her _Uplifting Primer_ , nodding in agreement.

"That's because it takes less time time to say Guardsmen than 'guardsmen and women'," taunted Del Pliny, a pilot in Beta Squadron.

Anna looked at him incredulously.

Kaarel simply smiled, fishing his plastic mouthguard from his fatigue pockets, shifting around in his flak armor uncomfortably as the fabric of his tunic was scratched and pulled by his armor and his webbing.

His helmet, which sat on his head with large goggles strapped to its forehead, wobbled dangerously as what he assumed were anti-ship explosions from the ongoing space battle outside of the main hangar rocked the massive battleship.

"I mean it's not as if the women of Cadia fought just as hard for the homeland as you, is it?" Caprice said, flying to Anna's aid.

"Yeah, Del," said Sergeant Piscella, commander of Delta. "A Guardswoman saved my skin when I was in the Interior Guard. Then she went on and killed an entire squad of Traitor Legionaries on her own."

Kaarel scoffed, drawing a look of mock hurt from Piscella.

"Does the honorable Sergeant Deroin have something to say?" he said, grinning.

"Creed's Arse, you'd better not be talking about Reyna the Raider."

There was a chorus laughs from the pilots, as well as a few Guardsmen filtering in the troopship.

" _What_?! She's real, I swear to the Emperor. Look, I'm not the only bloody one to have seen her, she was all over the place during the Crusade!"

"Yeah, next you'll say that Sly Marbo and Creed bought you a pint at a Cadian skin bar…" Ricardo said, smirking.

"Well, actually, did I ever tell you all about the time I ran into the Lord Castellan in this pub over in Armageddon…"

The pilots all winced as the vox-system squealed into life.

As the last few guardsmen from the 5th Company trickled into the dropship, the ramp began to close, locking the men and vehicles of the regiment's 5th Company, as well as the trusty Sentinel Brigade, into complete darkness.

After a while, the red interior lights flickered to life, bathing everything in a demonic, menacing light.

"Good afternoon, boys and girls, my name is Pilot Officer Bergmann, and I'll be your designated flyer this evening," crackled the vox, with a distinct Cadia Prime accent.

"It is currently 0500 hours, Highgate local time. Current temperature is a nice eight degrees, with a torrential downpour that is scheduled to last for the next… year or so."

A few scattered laughs emitted from the dim troop bay.

"Enemy AA is sporadic and light, according to Fleet Intelligence, and we'll be setting down in Camp Wirtz in approximately five minutes. Entry will get a bit rough, ladies and gentlemen, so if you'll extinguish any and all lho-sticks and narcotics, I'd really appreciate it."

The vox cut off and murmured conversations emitted from the eager troops. Many of the soldiers were new recruits- the regiment's last campaign on Kiron III had taken quite a large toll, and the regiment had been forced to levy troops from the local PDF.

Although not really Cadian in anything except the uniform, the 'muddies', as the older veterans had taken to calling them, had integrated fairly well. The Kironi spoke Gothic, the same as most of the Cadians, and although none of them looked distinctly Cadian, they followed orders well enough.

* * *

As the dropship lurched through the protective energy field of the hangar and roared towards the distant planet, the interior began to shake violently. On cue, there were shouts of pain as new recruits chipped teeth or bit into tongues with the violent shaking, but Kaarel, like the other veterans, had put in his mouthguard long before they had left the hangar.

The shaking went on for five minutes- proving the unrivaled accuracy of the Navy- and then slowed gradually as the ship's thrusters kicked in.

The gravity on the planet, which was slightly lighter than what any of the Cadians had been used to, gave most of the soldiers an elated feeling of lightness, and many of the Guardsmen laughed and jumped around like fools as soon as the ship had come to a stop and the ramp began opening.

The Sentinel pilots, all veterans, were already in their vehicles and priming their systems.

As _Salena_ rose with a _whirr_ of her gyrostabilizers, Kaarel grinned, despite himself. The fluid reactions of the walker, and the immediate responsiveness spoke to the tireless tune-ups that the crew back in the _Pride of Cadia_ had done to _Salena_.

Kaarel slid his harness buckles out from behind the worn, but comfortable seat, clicking the connector in the center of his flak armor as he put the headset around his ears, re-positioning the microphone so that it was a suitable distance from his mouth.

"This is Gamma One- Comms check, over."

Anna's voice emitted from his earpiece.

 _ **Gamma Two- all systems good. Auspex in good condition, over.**_

 _ **Gamma Three here, Vox is good, but I'm reading an instrument malfunction on my Multi-Melta, over.**_

I flipped a few switches around the cockpit, grinning from ear to ear as _Salena_ hummed to life, the thrumming sound of her engines music to Kaarel's ears.

"Ric, you're gonna have to make do. Is it a major problem, or can you deal with it, over?

 _ **Copy that, One. It shouldn't be a problem- I'll say a few rites over here just to be safe.**_

"Good, standby for deployment orders, over."

There was a chorus of acknowledgement over his comms, and Kaarel smiled as he grasped the control levers, pumping the floor pedals once. Like magic, _Salena_ glided upwards, the cockpit module extending to its proper height far above ground level. Pulling the lever by his windows, Kaarel glanced outside, grinning at the guardsmen and women piling into 5th Company's many chimeras.

First Sergeant de Burgos' voice broke onto the Section comms.

 _ **This is Alpha to all squadrons, please report. Alpha is primed and ready to go, over.**_

 _ **Beta is ready to deploy, just as soon as we beseech the Machine Spirits, over.**_

"Gamma is green across the board, First Sergeant," Kaarel said hurriedly, as he typed his command code into the Sentinel's main console.

 _ **Delta is ready to go, over.**_

 _ **Roger that. We'll move out in column formation and make for the main motor pool. Maintain general readiness and watch your sectors- especially the skies, over.**_

"Orders received and understood, sir," Kaarel said, his heart beating in his chest.

As the other Sentinels stalked out, the feeling of joyous freedom that came from walking in a Sentinel felt just out of reach for Kaarel. For too long had he been cooped up in that ship, not being able to experience true freedom in the seat of _Salena_.

"Gamma One, we're moving out, over."

 _ **Thank the Emperor- Action!**_ Ricardo said, relief in his voice.

Grinning, Kaarel pushed the right lever forward, relishing the satisfying _thunk_ as _Salena_ 's claw-like foot impacted with the adamantium hull of the ship. Like a child taking its first steps, _Salena_ stepped out of the ship tentatively, taking care not to trample the roaring chimeras escaping from the ship.

Laughing in joy, Kaarel gunned it, lunging forward with his walker and sprinting forward, his heart finally where it yearned to be.

As _Salena_ and the other Sentinels stalked towards the distant watchtowers and blooming artillery muzzles, Kaarel took a moment to study the terrain.

Gray, muddy fields were being pattered by rainfall, stretching far into the horizon. In the far distance, the forms of buildings and structures dotted the horizon, with plumes of smoke rising from the cities.

Cutting through the wasteland like scars were makeshift roads, filled with chimeras, trucks, and columns of troops, mostly Highgate PDF, but now intermixed with the rich red coats of Vostroyan Firstborn and the gas-masked, threatening forms of the Death Korps of Krieg.

Despite the communications trenches that snaked towards the distant front, obscured by tall hills and rubble, Kaarel's heart felt nothing but elation as he and _Salena_ ran across the plains, determined to catch up to the rapidly receding forms of Alpha and Beta.

For the first time in many months, Kaarel felt at home.

* * *

In the far distance, a solitary form lowered his rifle scope, re-attaching it to his rifle. As the heavy rain droplets pattered on his rich, green cloak, he leapt from his perch atop a ruined skyscraper, landing several floors below effortlessly after a quick succession of graceful swings and rolls.

The arrival of the Imperials meant that their ruse had been taken. If everything went to plan, then the solitary form, who slipped back into the underground access tunnels with a quick expression of disgust, was confident in their ultimate victory.

* * *

 **Hey all!**

 **So if some of you noticed that some of the Sentinel Pilot dialogue is familiar, that's because some of it is directly taken from the _Dawn of War_ series (which I use to see how the Sentinels look and move, if I have to be honest). **

**If you guys are at all interested, I do have a lot of supplemental materials regarding the Army Group's organization, specific regiments, briefing materials, and cool stuff like that that I can post. If you guys would be at all interested in seeing that, feel free to drop a review or a PM my way.**

 **Also, if you were confused by the temperature thing, I'm going of Celsius, as I'm basically assuming (based on some stuff I saw in a forum) that the Imperium operates off of a quasi-metric system.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! I'll do my best to update next weekend as well, but since Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) is starting, I might be a bit fatigued by the time the weekend rolls back around.**

 **-IGdude117**

* * *

 **++Thought of the day++**

 **Walk softly and carry a big gun.**

 **(Commander Angelos, _Dawn of War_ )**


	3. Chapter 3: The Battle of Aylassea

_**My walker is SUPERIOR!**_

"Get off the bloody comms, Ric, or I swear to the God-Emperor, I'll shoot you myself!"

The sound of bullets pattering off the armor of Kaarel's sentinel drowned out the beginning of Ricardo's reply.

… _**got carried away, sir, that's all!**_

 _ **They're deploying heavy weapons, One!**_

A large explosion rocked _Salena_ as she sprinted across a wide boulevard, a rebel roadblock opening fire with what sounded like a heavy stubber.

So much for heavy armaments, Kaarel thought to himself.

"Just keep marking hostile positions on the auspex and keep calling things in. The first wave of infantry is a few clicks away, stand fast!"

As planes fought for dominance of the skies above, Kaarel wrenched his walker sideways, hunkering down slightly behind a rusting water-tank as the separatists opened fire from all fronts. His stomach lurched as the Sentinel slid across the slick pavement, coming to a stop swiftly and narrowly avoiding falling over entirely.

 _ **Gamma One, please respond, over.**_

Kaarel grimaced, checking his auspex quickly, keying in his mic. The gravelly voice of Sergeant Newell, the Regimental vox-officer, was all too familiar to Kaarel.

 _ **Gamma One, go, over.**_

 _ **Please advise on your current situation, One, over.**_

 _ **All walkers are deployed according to plan, sir. Encountered light resistance, incurred no losses. Hostile casualties high, over.**_

 _ **Roger that, One. First infantry units should be near you now- vox code is Alpha-Two Omicron-Five- provide close support, over.**_

 _ **Emperor Protects, command, out.**_

Another explosion rocked _Salena_ and Kaarel manipulated the cockpit with the whirring of servo-gears to turn towards the supposedly approaching friendlies. Despite himself, Kaarel couldn't help but grin at the vibrant red uniforms and tall (slightly soggy) fur caps of Vostroyan Firstborns.

He lifted the top hatch of the Sentinel, poking his head out cautiously like a hunted grox, checking his surroundings. Almost immediately, a round bounced off of the top of _Salena_ , barely missing him. He looked at the Vostroyans, who were forming up behind some rubble and firing volleys of las-fire, waving his hand wildly.

One guardsman looked up at him, and, catching the attention of his sergeant, looked at Kaarel in incredulity.

 _Emperor knows_ , Kaarel thought, _This isn't the weirdest thing that's ever happened on the field._

His mind immediately went to a time when he had shared some fresh grox-meat with a group of Savlar Chem-Dogs in a trench, only to realize halfway through the meal that they were, in fact, eating in an enemy trench.

At length, a man who Kaarel assumed was a Lieutenant waved at Kaarel, gesturing towards the mangled remains of a vox-caster, and the wounded operator, behind him. Groaning in annoyance, Kaarel popped back down into _Salena,_ lowering the legs so that the cockpit was closer to the ground. Grabbing his Las-Carbine and his helmet, he kicked open the side door, and, already dreading the downpour of both rain and heavy ordnance, sprinted across the street, praying to something that he wouldn't be hit.

At the last moment as he could clearly see the Vostroyans, a rebel heavy bolter opened up, blowing large chunks of pavement to bits behind him as he dove into an open doorway, knocking over a reloading guardsman.

The Vostroyan slammed him against the wall, cursing loudly, until the Lieutenant stopped in, stopping the man.

" _Prekaritat_!"

The Vostroyan grumbled in annoyance, sprinting to another window and opening up. Kaarel saluted tiredly, regarding the Vostroyan. He was a younger man, looking to be around his later twenties. His moustache was lighter in color, and was sagging from the freezing rain that was a near-constant presence on Highgate.

"Well met, _letchek_. What do you need?"

"Sir, I'm Sergeant Deroin of the Cadian 413th. I've just been informed that I'm to provide close support for you and your men!"

A smaller explosion, seemingly a mortar, exploded nearby, showering them with dirt and stone. Outside, near a burnt out groundcar, a team of Vostroyans manning a Heavy Stubber opened up, the staccato, deafening sound forcing Kaarel to wince in annoyance.

"What was that, sir?"

"I said, what weapons do you have on there?!"

"A Mark II Agrippina Autocannon, Sir! Capable of taking out anything short of a Leman Russ at around 3,000 meters!"

"Very good. Why don't you get that thing behind our lines here and I'll give you better instructions."

Kaarel glanced back at the street where a stream of multi-laser bolts seared through the pavement as it were nothing but a stack of fresh parchment. Grimacing, Kaarel looked at the Lieutenant.

"Sorry, sir, is there any chance I could get some covering fire?"

The Lieutenant smiled, then began bellowing orders.

After screaming instructions to his platoon, he nodded at Kaarel, holding up three fingers. Kaarel took a deep breath, psyching himself up and hoping to the Emperor that he wouldn't be stitched apart by bullets in a few moments.

" _Tri...dva...odin!"_

Grunting in primal fear, he sprinted across, almost tripping over an exposed promethium pipe as bullets cracked past his ear. He let out an admittedly feminine scream as sprinted towards _Salena_ , and didn't stop until he slammed, hard, into the poster-covered wall.

He sat down on the wet sidewalk, panting heavily, and lifted his hand to thank the Vostroyans for their covering fusillade of las- and bolter fire.

 _I'd like to say that that was the last time I'd ever do that,_ he reflected, _But odds are, it's not._

He grinned ferociously, inhaling the clear, slightly sulfur-tinted air, and climbed back into the cockpit.

This was what he lived for.

* * *

By the time the Vostroyans he was supporting got their vox in working order, the battle had been mostly finished. The intel that he and the other Sentinels had provided was instrumental in coordinating the overall assault.

Of course, Good Old Uncle Constans being who he was, the tactic of 'throwing guardsmen at the enemy until the enemy is all dead' was utilized heavily, and almost all of the regiments took heavy casualties.

As Kaarel dismounted the Sentinel carefully, his muscles aching from the battle, he smiled warmly at Luc Wanner, the head mechanic for Gamma Squadron.

"Looks like you got a bit cavalier with my Sentinel, Sergeant Deroin," he said, smirking.

Kaarel winced.

"Sorry Luc. Frakking rebels had a Salamander Recon Tank with a heavy bolter. They put a few dents in her, but I blew their piece-of-shit tank to bits."

"That's no excuse for a hotshot pilot like you, now is it?" he said, smiling.

Kaarel chuckled, lighting a lho-stick and slapping Luc on the shoulder pauldron, walking back towards the barracks section.

As he walked, enjoying the constant _pitter-patter_ of the rain on his helmet, he took in the bustling camp. There never was quite anything like an Imperial Guard frontline camp, and it was always interesting to take in.

Other than the ring of trenches around the massive camp, this one in particular featured tall, ferrocrete walls with automated sentry turrets and parapets for soldiers to patrol. Every forty meters or so, tall bastions with anti-aircraft positions and teeming with weapon slits broke the monotonous gray wall.

As always, the fortifications were being manned by Death Korps. The corpse-men always liked their trenches and walls, for a reason that always escaped Kaarel.

He glanced at the array of tanks that stood silently to the right of him, smiling at the groups of guardsmen playing cards and smoking as mechanics and Tech-priests made repairs. Several muscle-bound Catachans chanted like cavemen as two of their crewmembers arm-wrestled across the turret of a Leman Russ Vanquisher.

Kaarel grinned to himself as he imagined the hulking Catachans trying to operate in a tank's cramped interior.

He ducked beneath a whirring Sentinel power-lifter just in time to walk straight into Commissar Carina Dreetzman, to his displeasure.

"Ahh, Sergeant Deroin. Fancy seeing you here."

Kaarel snapped into a stiff, parade-ground salute, letting the lho-stick fall from his now-cold lips.

"At ease, Sergeant."

Kaarel eased only slightly, his senses now wary of everything. Dreetzman, who had arrived during the regiment's last campaign on Zenia 33, had quickly earned a reputation as a no-nonsense, strict disciplinarian.

Initially, many of the men in the regiment- especially the footsloggers, as usual, had lusted after the Commissar, joking that her quest for order and discipline could be bought back in the Kasyrs for a few hundred credits. Her first execution of a mean-hearted but popular sergeant had put such rumors to rest, replacing sexual desire with pure hatred.

Kaarel himself never really had any problem with the Commissar himself. If anything, he respected her strength-of-will, but Commissars usually had a habit of disliking Sentinel pilots due to the nature of Sentinel operations- individual, isolated, and, usually, autonomous.

"Can I be of any service, ma'am?" Kaarel asked nervously.

The Commissar regarded him intensely, her hand straying by her inlaid-gold bolt pistol.

"Not yet, Sergeant. I merely wanted to commend you. A Lieutenant Vukan of the Vostroyan 311th conveyed to the Colonel that a Sergeant Kaarel Deroin helped his platoon greatly in the taking of the city. Word is that you've been put in for an Imperial Cross."

Kaarel smirked indiscernably.

"I'm flattered, Commissar, but I've never been one for medals. I'll have to convey my appreciation to Lieutenant Vukan."

She nodded, almost disappointed that he didn't try to defy her or anything.

"See that you do, Sergeant. Carry on."

Saluting again, Kaarel waited until the fair-haired Commissar left his field of vision, then walked towards the 413th's section of tents, letting out a long breath of relief.

As he ducked into the camo-green tent, relieved to be out of the freezing rain, he chuckled to himself, lighting another lho-stick and smiling at the others.

"What took you so long, Sarge?" Ric asked, looking up from his copy of the Primer.

"Frakking Commissar Dreetzman cornered me, tried to get me to slip up."

There was a scattering of laughs around the tent.

Nicolaus Einhardt, a pilot with Delta Squad, who shared Gamma's barracks-tent, sat up in his cot, setting a data-slate by his side.

"Ah, the enchanting Commissar Dreetzman. Emperor knows that i'd like to…"

"For frak's sake, Einhardt, stow it. No one needs to hear how much of a pervert you are," Anna said, smirking.

"Oh, shut up, Renzen. You're just upset that no one in fifty light years around would want to bed you."

The tent went dead silent, and Kaarel frowned, standing up and glaring at Einhardt. The Delta pilot noticed and stood, cracking his neck.

"You have a problem with that, Sarge? You want to stick up for your Gamma comrades, or are you too much of a _coward_ to do anything about it?"

Simon Gustavus, the other present member of Delta, got up, walking towards Einhardt.

"Nicolaus, don't be a frakking idiot- just apologize and walk away."

"Shut the hell up, Simon. You have no part in this."

The pilot, cowed, stood back as the two men squared off.

Kaarel positioned himself in front of Einhardt, glaring at the cocky, arrogant man in pure disdain.

"Just walk away, Einhardt. You don't want this."

"Oh, what? You're going to pull rank on me and get Dreetzman in on this? Don't make me laugh, _coward_."

"If I'm a coward, Einhardt, you're something much worse."

The bald, badly scarred man laughed raucously.

"You know, I heard about you when you were in the Whiteshields. I'll bet your family didn't even take up arms when the Enemy landed on the homeworld. I'll bet they ran away like the _cowards_ they are."

Kaarel punched him square in the jaw, kicking off the fight. He ducked beneath Einhardt's clumsy blow, punching the man in the midriff with his other free fist, sending the other man staggering backwards. Roaring in anger, Einhardt bull-rushed him, catching Kaarel in the stomach with his surprisingly hard head, taking the fight to the rough wooden floor.

Lifting his arms, Kaarel blocked a flurry of punches with his forearms, kneeing the other soldier in the stomach, hard.

Gaining the upper hand, Kaarel flipped him over, and, in a smooth, fluid motion, locked his legs around the other man's neck, choking him slowly

The man tried, futilely, to resist, but after several agonizing seconds, he slackened, weakening from a lack of oxygen.

By the time that had happened, he was already being pulled off of the other man by his squadmates and being roughly pushed outside.

"Thanks, Anna. I was afraid I was going to kill him."

The cold, clipped tone of Commissar Dreetzman's voice made Kaarel's blood run cold.

"I'm impressed by your sense of honor, Sergeant Deroin, but I'm afraid that won't exactly save you in military court."

The last thing he saw before he fell unconcious from a savage blow to his head was the unmistakeable boots of the regimental Commissariat Officers, covered in the polluted, gray mud of Highgate.

* * *

The engines of the two jetbikes hummed softly in the background as the two slender figures conversed, isolated in the small, already-secure courtyard far from human eyes.

"The readings are… unmistakable."

"You are sure?"

"There's no doubt. The followers of _Yngir_ are close. When they will arrive, I cannot say, only that it is soon."

"You have done well, Iseris. Now, we must allow the _mon-keigh_ will play their part."

"If I may be so bold, Farseer, but why them? They are blunt and reckless. Hardly a weapon to wield against the _Kaelis-Ra_?"

The Farseer, one who had seen much more conflict and death at the hands of the humans than most of her kind, smiled slightly, putting her slender, tapered helm on once more. Her mind, as it often did as of late, went back to the hellish red wastelands of Essel-Ir-Talith, known to the humans as Kaurava III, where her brave soldiers had been cut down by the hapless _mon-keigh_ Guardsmen.

As the treads of their cursed tanks had ground her valiant comrades into the dust, they had blundered blindly into the horror that lay hidden beneath the surface.

She pushed the torment from her mind. It did her no good.

"I detest the mon-keigh, Ranger, but I detest the _Yngir_ much, much more. Blunt they may be, but they will occupy our enemy long enough for us to strike the fatal blow."

* * *

 **Hey all,**

 _ **So,**_ **So sorry about the long delay. A combination of Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month in November), final exams, and pure, unadulterated laziness prevented me from writing at all for the last while. Also sorry that this one was so short- I do have another in the works that should go up relatively soon.**

 **Also, sorry for the typical Guard drama- I just couldn't help it :)**

 **Feel free to leave constructive criticism and/or comments in the review section!**

 **-IGdude117**


	4. Chapter 4: The Leviathan

When Kaarel was finally pushed into the makeshift courtroom, his blood ran cold when he saw the person who would serve as the judge.

Sitting behind the synth-oak wooden table was a gaunt, tall man wearing a long, flowing overcoat with a starchly pressed, green uniform beneath. The man's epaulets and trimmings, even in the omnipresent rain, seemed as if it was fresh out of the uniform manufactoriums on Cadia.

His name, well known to all of the Cadian regiments in Army Group Constans, was Colonel Haydn Einhinger.

Colonel Einhinger was the commanding officer of the 100th Infantry Regiment, one of three Cadian Regiments on-world. Him and his regiment had been a valuable part of the Army Group since its inception around a decade ago, and he had taken the role as Army Group Arbitrator- an impartial judge to preside over disciplinary hearings. He had earned the role not for his impartiality or his sense of justice- it had been his percieved lack of any sort of emotion that had earned him the nickname of 'The Cold Front'.

Kaarel sat behind a small metal desk, sweating slightly as he shifted uncomfortably under the unwavering gaze of Colonel Vandilius and the Commissars seated at the other table. He had hoped that one of the other commanders- perhaps a Catachan, who would respect Kaarel's actions, would sit in, but having The Cold Front presiding meant that his fate could either be a full pardon or a summary execution.

'The Cold Front', according to his men, had once sent thousands of his men to their deaths against a firmly entrenched Tau force during the Damocles Crusade. When confronted with the casualty reports- his entire regiment, dead in the fields, he reportedly nodded, unflinching, and got to work putting in a replacement form.

As if on cue, the Colonel rose slowly, setting down his data-slate. Commissar Martinez, Commissar of the 4th Company, cleared his throat loudly, his hands sitting, relaxed, on his chainsword and laspistol.

"All rise for the Army Group Arbitrator, Colonel Einhinger!"

They shuffled to their feet. For a moment, Kaarel met the gaze of Colonel Vandilius and immediately withered beneath a glare that would make the Emperor take notice.

"Case 0175, Sergeant Deroin vs. 413th Regimental Commissars shall begin. Scribe, begin the counter."

The scribe, an almost comically large man in a brown Administratum robe, nodded, tapping into his data-cogitator. A timer with five minutes on it began ticking down.

As if the pressure wasn't high enough.

The Colonel continued, his clipped, precise tones indicative of a life of high breeding in the Cadian nobility.

"We will begin with a list of facts. At 2234 hours yesterday, Sergeant Kaarel Deroin of the 413th Regimental Sentinel detachment entered into an altercation with Corporal Nicolaus Einhardt. Reportedly, Corporal Einhardt levied verbal abuse at Sergeant Deroin's subordinate, Corporal Anna Renzen. Sergeant Deroin then proceeded to assault Corporal Einhardt. Neither party sustained serious injuries."

He paused, regarding his data-slate once more.

"The charges are as follows. Against Sergeant Deroin: violation of Astra Militarum code 45-77-B regarding physical assault against other members of the Astra Militarum. Also levied is a violation of code 782-12-T, regarding unsanctioned inter-personal relationships. How do you plead, Sergeant?"

Deroin stood, shakily. While the punishment for unsanctioned relationships wasn't severe- a dock of six months' pay- the punishment for the first was a maximum sentence of one year in an Imperial Penal Colony, or, failing that, summary execution.

"I plead not guilty to the first charge… and guilty to the second."

There were murmurs in the tent.

"Let it be shown that Corporal Einhardt pleaded not guilty to his charge of violating code 45-77-B, as well as code 52-341-R, assault of a superior officer."

The Colonel set down his slate.

"Let the proceedings begin."

* * *

Far away, in one of thousands of roving patrols around the tumultuous Eye of Terror, the Gothic-Class Imperial Cruiser _Cataphract_ idled in the black void of space, its crew mostly engaged in repairs.

Captain Irene Apollonia stared out of the bridge's main viewport, clasping her hands behind her back.

"Flag-Lieutenant Sollander, report."

The powerfully built, inexplicably tanned woman saluted crisply behind the Captain, her heels snapping together in a perfect, parade-ground salute.

"Repairs are approximately 56% done, ma'am. Our hull strength has been restored to a 78% total strength, firepower is back to 60%, and manpower has been restored to 45%."

"Damnation. Those cursed raiders really did a number on us."

"Then it's a good thing we killed all of them, ma'am," Sollander said, smirking.

"Verena," the Captain said, smiling as she turned towards the Lieutenant. "Have you gotten _any_ sleep since the skirmish."

"No, ma'am. I'm surviving on stimm-tabs and recaf."

Apollonia chuckled.

"Admirable effort. If you get a chance, get some sleep- that's an order. I can't have my Lieutenant operating a ship without having had any-"

A loud beeping noise interrupted her, and the Ensign watching the auspex lurched forward, nervously examining his instruments.

"Ensign, report!" barked the Captain.

"Something just came out of warp, ma'am- it's… by the Emperor, it's _huge_."

Apollonia and Sollander sprinted closer to the window, searching for the object. As adrenaline spiked through Apollonia's veins, she smiled wolfishly.

"Flag Lieutenant, increase the ship's readiness and report to battle stations."

"Aye-aye, ma'am!"

The Lieutenant sprinted out of the large bridge, and moments later, a loud alarm klaxon sounded.

As Apollonia stared out of the window, the object materialized out of the darkness slowly, like a terrifying sea monster emerging from the depths of an ocean chasm.

It was, as the nervous Ensign had stammered, massive. It had, at least from her field of view, three tiers. The top and bottom ones had massive pyramids that stood from the top and bottom. From the base of the pyramids, massive arms splayed out like the petals of a gothic flower, forming a cruciform shape.

In the middle, what looked like immense cannons loomed in all four cardinal directions. The bottom was a mirror image of the top, completing the object in a strangely malicious symmetry.

The entire object was jet-black, shimmering dimly in the light of the nearby sun, making it barely visible.

"Magnify that object on the main screen!"

The object materialized on the screen, with readings and information ticking into existence, in paragraphs, all around it. As Apollonia looked at it, she felt sweat bead at her forehead, which was unusual.

For the first time since she had seen the obscene vessels of the Chaos fleet emerging from the Eye, bound for the fortress worlds like bullets fired from a gun, she felt fear.

As ensigns and operators streamed into the bridge, a chorus of nervous voices filled the room.

"Ma'am! Sensors indicate no life form readings within the object!"

"All of the psykers just went berserk in the aft sections!"

"Warp signature is off the charts!"

"It's opening a warp portal, Captain!"

She gripped the railings tightly, her knuckles white against the gunmetal gray of the metal rails.

"All… all batteries, prepare to fire."

"All gun batteries reporting positive, ma'am."

"On my mark... "

A warp portal emerged in the distance, and the leviathan floated towards it, almost lazily.

"Fire!"

With a slight tremor, the cruiser opened fire, sending bolts of plasma, las-shot, massive missiles, and dozens of torpedoes towards the distant object. As the deadly payload neared it, they looked sure to destroy it, whatever it was.

Then, just before the fired ordinance hit, the vessel slipped into the warp portal, blinking out of existence in mere moments.

Bizarrely, the bridge descended into still silence as the crew stared at the empty space in shock. The prevailing warp storms had made warp travel practically impossible for weeks, and here was a vessel ten times larger than the Imperium's largest battleships slipping away easily.

Apollonia glanced at her communications officer, startled.

"Send a message to Segmentum command and give a full report. Make preparations to leave- we make for Segmentum headquarters on Cyprus Mundi."

As the crew moved about its business, shocked from their stupor, Apollonia stared back out at the blank stars, dread filling her chest. Whatever that thing was, it certainly wasn't human. Throughout her thousands of engagements, the only time she had seen something similar was when she faced Necron raiders off of Tyronii III during the Renkor Crusade.

During that battle, three small Necron vessels had dispatched nearly an entire flotilla of ships before being taken down.

Yet the object was somehow different from the ships. It wasn't glowing with infernal green energy like the Necron- it had looked… dead. To her, she sensed that the object was somehow much older, and, almost impossibly, much more deadly.

As her crew ran to their stations, Captain Irene Apollonia murmured a silent prayer to the Emperor- something she hadn't done since she had been but a child.

* * *

Colonel Einhinger stood, and Kaarel's heart sank in fear.

"I will now pronounce my decision."

He paused, almost as if for dramatic effect.

"Having taken into account the given evidence, and given the logistical need for skilled Sentinel pilots, I have decided to grant Sergeant Deroin a probationary pardon. If he should be brought in for disciplinary judgement again, he will face it with an automatic probation violation punishment of thirty lashes. Corporal Einhardt will also receive probation, as well as an immediate punishment of fifteen lashes for striking a superior officers."

As if on cue, the timer beeped several times, marking exactly five minutes.

"Thank you, and may the Emperor protect," the Colonel said, walking elegantly out of the tent.

Kaarel sat back in his seat, letting out a long, shaky breath. Next to him, Colonel Vandilius' ever-present glare softened slightly, and she clasped his shoulder once before hurrying out. Across the aisle, Kaarel met eyes with Commissar Dreetzman, who stood, huddled, with the other Commissars.

The bunch of them resembled a group of vultures brooding in a graveyard, but Kaarel held no ill will against the Commissar. She had simply done her job, and he couldn't fully fault her for that.

When he walked into the tent, now vacated by the Delta Squad members, Kaarel grunted as he was tackled into a bear hug by Ricardo.

"Thank the Emperor they didn't execute you. You still owe me for that last game of Conquest we played."

Kaarel pushed him away, laughing.

"I appreciate that, Ric. I'm pretty glad they didn't execute me either."

Ric shook his head, laughing, and Kaarel approached Anna, who hugged him tightly in the corner.

"You don't have to be the gentleman, Kaarel. I'm fully capable of taking care of myself."

Kaarel kissed her on the lips quickly, interrupting her.

"Einhardt was being a right prick. It was satisfying."

"Satisfying enough to get the firing squad?"

Kaarel grinned.

"Anna, we risk our lives every day in walking coffins. If we get hit in the wrong place we'll burn alive. Or we could be dragged out by traitors and have Emperor knows what done to us. The firing squad is a mercy."

" _Really_ inspiring, Kaarel," she said, grinning.

"I try."

* * *

"Report."

"The Talisman is on its way. Captain Lauvel believes that it will arrive here in a months' time."

"That long? That is unfortunate. We may be forced to make our presence known, and soon."

"Excuse my insolence, farseer, but is that really wise? Militarily, the _mon-keigh_ would slaughter us in open conflict."

"You know the Noble Art. We cannot strike from the shadows for all time. If events are not influenced correctly, then the Imperials will sweep away the rebels and leave before the true enemy surfaces. That will mean doom for this planet and the Craftworld."

"As you wish, Farseer."

"Prepare our strike force. We move out in the morning's first light."

"Of course. Strength in darkness, Farseer."

"Strength in darkness, Ranger."

* * *

 **Hey all,**

 **As always, feel free to leave feedback.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **-IGdude117**


	5. Chapter 5: The Finer Points of Romance

The incense, as always, seemed to worm its way directly into Kaarel's nostril, causing him to gag slightly and resist the urge to cough loudly in the midst of Father Carro's sermon.

Like every good Cadian, Kaarel had gone to chapel every weekend, but his religious fervor had somewhat dimmed the first time he saw a man die. When he heard his squadron commander slowly roasted alive in his Chimera, courtesy of an Ork Killa Kan, suddenly the Emperor's Word had become much less interesting to Kaarel than staying alive.

He had never said anything, though. To deny the Emperor's Faith was nothing short of heresy, and Kaarel did not relish the thought of being roasted alive on a stake after a few weeks of stringent 'purification'.

"O, Immortal Emperor, guide us through the eddies of darkness with your timeless beacon of purity. Guide our hand as we slay the heretic, and guide our lasguns as we dispense your Holy Wrath. O, Glorious Master of all Mankind, we beseech thee: take solace in our constant sacrifice, which we do gladly," the priest droned, waving his damned censer.

It wasn't that he _didn't_ believe in the Emperor- he supposed he did, in some small measure- but he just didn't give too much thought to it. He had come to terms with the fact that he would probably die in a gruesome manner someday, and that there wasn't a damned thing the Emperor was going to do about it.

Kaarel figured that He had a lot better things to do than pay attention to a bunch of muddy footsloggers.

"To die in service to the Golden Throne is to worship His Grace. To vindicate one's' sins in the Eyes of the Emperor is to be alive. To scourge the galaxy of the hateful enemy is to fulfill one's' purpose in life. Make no mistake, brothers and sisters: you were born to fight and die in the armies of Mankind. Whether you do it here, or in some other land is in the hands of the Emperor."

Kaarel found himself thinking over what repairs had to be made. A week or two ago- three or four days after he had been cleared of all charges in the trial- he had been on a sortie and had taken a glancing hit from a Leman Russ' battle cannon. The damned thing had scraped across the front of his cockpit. Luckily, it must have been a dud or something- otherwise Kaarel wouldn't have been there, half-asleep from the early awakening.

Orders had come in from command. Outside, rain poured as it always did, and the dark night sky was illuminated either by the flashes of distant artillery duels, spotlights from the camp's towers, or flares floating down lazily from the sky.

It was around 0245 in the morning, and the orders had been clear: morning patrol. Why this mandatory prayer had been held, Kaarel did not know- he just wanted to get out of the stuffy tent and do his job.

"As the Prime Edicts of the Holy Synod dictate, 'When the people forget their duty they are no longer human and become something less than beasts. They have no place in the bosom of humanity nor in the heart of the Emperor. Let them die and be forgotten'. Take these words and lock them in your heart- for they will shield you from the enemies of the Imperium. Amen."

" _Amen,"_ Muttered the group.

Kaarel yawned, stuffing his helmet back onto his head and scratching his stubbled chin, glancing curiously at the strange assortment of guardsmen.

A cluster of Death Korpsmen reapplied their helmets and gasmasks, their pale and gaunt features now obscured by their admittedly creepy helmets. As he tore his gaze away from the blank-faced masks, he felt a strong nudge on his shoulder.

"Damned skellies are creeps, ain't they?" said a gruff voice.

He turned, and was surprised to see a Catachan Deathworlder grinning, his hands on his hips. Catachans were notoriously picky about who they talked to, and they rarely associated with outsiders. He wondered what it was he had done to earn their respect.

"I guess. Damned good at digging trenches, though."

The Catachan grunted dismissively.

"Eh. They can have their bloody trenches. Give me a blade and a jungle any day and I bet I can take 'em out."

"Better not let one of their Commissars catch that. I hear they're downright terrifying."

The Catachan laughed raucously.

"Speaking of Commissars, everyone in the Camp's heard about your little… incident. Punching a bloke right in the face while a Commissar is nearby? That took balls, mate. Especially for a damned walker-driver."

Kaarel was sure he had misheard.

"Come again?"

"Oh, come off it, Cadian- everyone knows that you punched a bloke right in front of a Commissar. Tell me, how was it?"

Kaarel imagined that he must have visibly paled, as he excused himself quickly.

* * *

"We replaced the anterior plating with some spares we had back on the ship," said Luc, wiping his forehead as he combed through a data-slate.

"I don't suppose you could have painted it…" Kaarel hesitated.

"What, _better_? You want better, Sergeant, you're gonna have to do it yourself."

Kaarel sighed. The frontplate, with the inbuilt sensor outlet and the spotlight, had been lazily splashed with camo-green paint, making it several shades darker than the rest of the Sentinel. Not that Kaarel was a stickler for details like that, but it bothered him nonetheless.

"What about the ammunition? Were you able to requisition what I asked for?"

Luc grimaced, his normally clean-shaven face grimy with oil and a shadow of a beard.

"Not as much as you requested. The Mark 13 Crusader rounds _have_ been loaded, but you've only got a clip of around ten. The Navy bastards managed to get the majority of the fleet's supply for their Lightnings."

"What'd you do? Sleep with a pilot?"

Luc chuckled, giving Kaarel a knowing look.

"You know me too well. To be fair, she _was_ fairly good-looking for a Navy rat."

"You know how to pick 'em," Kaarel grinned, slapping him on the back.

* * *

As the rain pattered onto the reinforced armor of _Salena_ , Kaarel found himself strangely cozy as his walker strode across the mud-strewn wasteland. The internal heating system- usually pretty temperamental- was working fine, and as a result, he felt more at home than he had ever been.

Of course, the omnipresent threat of being sniped by a Destroyer Tank Hunter or bombed by a plane up above was always there, but that was something of a given as a member of the Guard.

He keyed his mike.

"Everyone doing alright?"

 _ **Yes, sir.**_

 _ **Yep.**_

Kaarel smiled, pulling back on the right control stick to turn Salena slightly. He slowed the pace slightly, mindful of the many fellow pilots who had wrecked their walkers by a mistake as simple as slipping on an unstable surface.

"Ricardo, do you mind if I key you out for a sec?"

There was a momentary pause.

 _ **Yeah, sure. Not like I'm on patrol, all alone in this desolate no-man's land, with legions of the en-**_

Kaarel tapped the command in, and Ric's line went silent.

 _ **What?**_

"You know what. We have to talk."

 _ **Now? Really?**_

"What better time is there."

 _ **Fine. Then talk.**_

"You're mad at me," Kaarel said, bluntly.

 _ **Look-**_

"Just tell me, Anna. I want to know."

 _ **You know, when I kissed you after the trial, it was because I was just so thankful that you were spared. Then, when I fell asleep, I remembered that you were the one that wanted to end whatever it was that we had between us.**_

Regret filled his heart.

"Anna, I-"

 _ **This business with the Commissar might make you a hero to Catachans or whatever, but you have to know that it's just foolish. You're playing with your life, and whether you like it or not, more than one person will be… wounded if you fall in battle.**_

Kaarel was silent. His first instinct was to deny, to plead his case, or to even crack a joke. Yet part of him knew that she was both right, and very very dear to him- more dear than any of the other women he had had romances with.

For a while, the comms were silent, and the rhythmic stomping and whirring of hydraulics were the only thing Kaarel could hear as he tried to study his auspex and formulate a response. After ten minutes or so, he keyed the comms again.

"You're right. I've been foolish."

 _ **It doesn't matter anymore, Kaarel. We have a mission to fulfill.**_

"No, it does matter. I've been trying to put this off- deny this too long, but I love you, Anna. I can't lie about that."

There was only silence on her end. At length, Kaarel reactivated Ricardo's frequency, sensing that the dialogue was long over.

* * *

 _ **Hey, Sarge? I've got a reading over here, but I'm not sure what it means.**_

Kaarel snapped out of his stupor, and immediately glanced at his data-screen, looking for Ricardo's position.

"What do you got?"

 _ **It's weird. I've got some kind of movement, but no heat signature. It looks like some sort of vehicle or something.**_

"If it's not Imperial, blast it."

 _ **Alright. You want to back me up, just in case?**_

"Sure, I'll call it in. Anna, rendezvous at Ricardo's position. Ric, stay put and try to get a reading, would you?"

 _ **Roger.**_

Turning his Sentinel several degrees to the left, the cockpit swayed almost dangerously, sending a brief but familiar thrill down his spine as a falling sensation overtook him. Then, as the cockpit's hydraulic supports kicked in, it stabilized, and lurched forward, jogging towards Ricardo's position.

Kaarel flipped through his vox-channel selector.

"Lucky One, this is Gamma One, please respond, over."

The vox crackled to life, and Vox-Sergeant Newell's voice came on, gravelly and distorted.

 _ **Gamm… -ne, this is Lucky One, go ahead, over.**_

"One, Gamma Three reported a reading on his patrol sweep. Gamma One and Two are deviating from our patrol routes to reinforce, over."

There was a static-filled pause, then:

 _ **Ro… er that, Gamma ...ne. Send a contact ...eport as soon as you make contact, over.**_

"Roger, One. Out."

He switched back to the squadron comms again.

"Ric, give me a sitrep."

The vox-channel remained open, and only static remained. A dull feeling of dread settled into Kaarel's stomach as his walker nimbly jumped over a fallen tree and into a large clearing, where he was confronted by a smoking wreck. He swung _Salena_ around, activating the auspex's long-range sensors, his thumb flicking the safeties off and his finger hovering over the trigger, ready to unleash a hail of autocannon rounds at the slightest provocation.

The auspex revealed nothing.

He looked back at the smoking wreck and choked back a sob. The blackened, twisted mess was unmistakably a Sentinel, and the Cadian Gate sigil on its side and the dim, soot-covered bright blue stripe of Gamma Squad meant that it was indeed Ricardo.

"Emperor, no," he muttered.

He lowered his cockpit and kicked open the side door, grabbing his las-carbine and running out towards the wreck, scanning the prairie-grass filled clearing for any sign of enemies. He keyed the comm-bead on his collar.

"Anna, he's gone. Call it in."

The other side of the comms were silent for a while, and then her voice came back, sounding raw and wavering slightly.

 _ **Copy that. Is… is there any chance he…**_

"No."

The link clicked as Anna disconnected, and Kaarel took his helmet off, walking towards the mangled metal and laying a hand on the unnaturally cool surface. He frowned at it in surprise. If the walker had 'cooked off', or combusted, like they all did, the metal would be scalding hot. This metal was cool and… dead.

He hefted a metal plate aside and grimaced as the sight of his former comrade greeted him. What was left of Ricardo Strohmann, seasoned veteran of dozens of campaigns, was barely identifiable except for the shock of crimson hair that had been his trademark of sorts.

He ducked under the twisted remnants of his window-plate and felt around on his body, tearing his ident-tags from around his neck. As he grasped the cool metal of the tags, he felt something else come off, and he opened his palm.

A small, crudely-fashioned Imperial Eagle, now scorched and singed by whatever it was that had killed Ricardo lay in Kaarel's smudged palm, looking at him sternly and proudly even in the wake of its owner's demise.

The mechanical stomping noise of Anna's Sentinel pushing over some trees broke him from his somber reflection, and he looked up at her Sentinel sadly, dangling Ricardo's tags from his hand.

 _ **Are we taking his body back?**_

He grimaced again, stepping from the wreck and striding towards _Salena_.

"There's… not much left. He's… he's fused to the…"

He bit off his words, feeling bile rise in his throat.

 _ **Emperor guide his soul to the Golden Throne,**_ Anna said, sadly.

Kaarel nodded, the words that comforted so many falling flat to his ears. As he stepped back into _Salena_ , feeling the hum of her engine as she reared up once more, a burning hatred brewed in the pit of his stomach. He may not have believed in the Emperor's Light, but he silently swore on his honor that he'd find the son of a bitch that killed Ricardo and avenge his death.

He'd do that, or he'd die trying.

* * *

 **Hey all!**

 **Sorry for the wait. In my experience, you have to be in a certain mood to write 40k, and I haven't been feeling quite as grimdark as these types of stories usually require.**

 **Also, sorry if this chapter seemed to reek of the dramatic. I wanted to try my hand at writing romance, and I think that genuine romance is often hard to come by in 40k lore or books. Usually it seems to be purely of a sexual nature, but I wanted to try expanding that and try writing at least a semi-realistic take on Guard romance.**

 **I also wanted to further explore the religious side of the Guard in greater detail, as well as expound on the various relationships between various regiments. And, by the way, in case you're wondering why Catachans are on a rainy Armoury World, I'll just recycle the tested and true GW answer; It's the Munitorium. Also, Catachan armored units are considered to be quite good.**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading, and feel free to leave feedback!**

 **Until next time,**

 **IGdude117**


	6. Chapter 6: Replacement

The room was silent. It wasn't a total, all-encompassing silence, as it had often been in his personal chambers back on Kyrie IV. The silence was but a thin layer here, barely holding back the constant thrumming of the ship's engines.

Or perhaps it could be better described as a throbbing. After all, outside the frail walls of his ship and the thin energy shield, unknowable and insane forces that were utterly incomprehensible thrived and threw themselves at his ship, a beacon in a sea of madness.

His meditations were shattered by a hiss of steam as a servitor activated itself and emerged from an alcove by his door. It was little more than a skull and spinal cord, making more of a servo-skull, but it had a spindly, metallic body formed from wires and support struts. Its red, baleful bionic eye flashed quickly.

 _++Inquistor Galerius. Authorized Visitor A-11-23 requests an audience.++_

Inquisitor Cloten Galerius of the Ordo Xenos sighed, standing quickly. He stretched his limbs, relishing in the quick response from his augmetic leg. His last one had been shredded when a Tyranid Genestealer tried to grab him from below, but it had been failing anyways, so he welcomed a change of pace.

"Let him in."

The skull made no response, retracting into its alcove as the door slid open. Heavy footfalls entered Galerius' room as he moved from his meditation pad to behind his large desk. He settled himself into his seat, deliberately and slowly, before looking up at the figure.

"Ahh, Sergeant Triam. How may I help you?"

The towering figure, clad in mighty red-and-yellow power armor, removed his helmet with a slight hiss, revealing a bald, weathered face. The man's right eye was pale, the result of a stray chaotic bolter round (as the rumors had it), its iris and pupil dim and unseeing. Why the good Sergeant hadn't gotten an augmentation was beyond Galerius, but it was not his place to judge.

Howling Griffons were staunch traditionalists, after all, and stranger things had happened.

"I have my report, Inquisitor."

Galerius nodded once.

"Preliminary scans have showed that the Imperial forces on-planet have begun to turn the stalemate. The arrival of Army Group Constans has greatly improved citizen morale, and analysis anticipates an Imperial victory within the decade."

"And they have not been told of our arrival?"

"Yes, Inquisitor. However, scans also indicate that the Eldar are on-planet as well. Reports gathered from our scout vessels sighted an Eldar vessel belonging to the Craftworld classified as 'Ulthwe'."

Galerius steepled his fingers and frowned.

"Do we know if it is our quarry?"

"Preliminary analysis has placed the vessel as having been present in the Kaurava campaign, but that is unconfirmed."

Galerius smiled triumphantly, nodding in satisfaction.

"If it is indeed Caerys, then will your Oath be completed?"

"When I cleave that _witches'_ head from her shoulders, then my oath will be complete."

The Sergeant smirked, tapping the weathered and crumpled scroll attached to his large shoulder pauldron. As was Howling Griffons tradition, each marine made an oath after every battle. For Triam, it was to kill the Eldar-Witch Caerys.

Long before the Kaurava campaign, the good Sergeant had become friends of sorts with a fellow marine in the Blood Ravens chapter named Janos. Unfortunately, Janos had been killed fighting the Eldar on Kaurava, and Triam had sworn an oath of vengeance. Triam was also honor-bound to pursue said vengeance until his oath was complete.

While Galerius admired the marine's tenacity, he viewed the oath as a practicality. As long as the Sergeant's oath was still active, he and his marines would follow Galerius to the bitter ends of the galaxy looking for Caerys.

And a Space Marine was _never_ an unwanted ally.

"Very good sergeant. We should be arriving in-system within the next few days. I shall inform Celestian Superior Ellerine and Lieutenant Bohlman of the developments."

As the Sergeant slammed his fist against his breastplate in the typical Astartes fashion, Galerius' thoughts were already elsewhere. He had been tracking Caerys since right after Kaurava, but the possibility of her arrival on this backwater planet worried him.

 _Any_ Eldar present on a civil war-embroiled planet was worrying truth be told. His many years in the Ordo Xenos had taught him one thing about the Eldar.

The presence of Eldar was only ever bad luck. And Inquisitor Galerius was not a man inclined to put much stock in luck.

* * *

He didn't _quite_ know where he got the drinks; all he knew was that some Savlar Chem-Dogs had given it to him. While he never really trusted Penal Legionnaires, he did know that the Chem-Dogs in particular were adept at making things that could make you forget your own name.

This was his routine, after all.

After he had received official notice from the Cadian Administratum branch that his mother had been killed during the Crusade, he had done the same thing. He knew it was _wrong_ \- fundamentally wrong- but the results were too… _good_ to argue with.

Kaarel's thoughts strayed away as he greedily gulped down the bitter drink, sitting next to his cot silently, ignoring everything but the delicious taste of _nothingness_.

Images came to the forefront of his inebriated mind, like oceanic horrors emerging from the depths of an endless sea. The burning plains of his home, Kasyr Holn, as obsidian-armored Traitor Marines marched across it was seared into his memory, the images from the Imperial news broadcast a permanent scar in his mind.

In an instant, his crew screamed as flames from an Ork burna engulfed them, as Kaarel scurried away, beating away the dead flames in shame and fear.

And then, as they had before, the deep, foreboding voices and the metallic obelisks deep beneath the ground beckoned towards him, dragging him deeper and deeper into the bottomless chasm of death.

He woke again, his head pounding and his tongue dry as he squinted up at an unfamiliar silhouette. A voice persistently murmured in his ear like a bubbling brook.

 _Kaarel._

He grunted, flailing around blindly.

 _Kaarel!_

He jolted upwards, squinting and seeing Anna and grimacing. A strange, unknown person stood next to her, saluting stiffly as if he were back on the parade grounds in the Whiteshield training facilities, fearing a drill instructor's shock-baton.

"By the Throne, Kaarel, how much did you drink?"

"Savlar… chem… dogs."

She swore, shaking her head in derision.

"You're lucky you're not missing some organs. Come on, get up- you have a visitor."

Kaarel looked up at the other man expectantly. As if on cue, the man stepped forward with his best marching form, straightening again and snapping his clean boots together.

"Private First Class Graig Keyes, reporting for duty! Serial number A-34222... "

"Shut the frak up, Keyes. What do you want?"

The man winced, as if Kaarel's dismissiveness had physically wounded him.

"I'm your… replacement. I was in reserve up in the-"

"By the Golden Throne, shut the frak up before I stab you," Kaarel snapped, striding out of the tent, nursing his pounding head.

* * *

As usual, he ended up by Salena. The walker sat, in its deactivated state, on its haunches, coiled and ready to be piloted at a moments notice. Some refueling pipes and ammo boxes lay strewn around the old girl, but Luc nor any of the other techs were there. Even luckier, none of the Tech-Priests were there. No doubt they were working on the Regiment's Chimeras.

Kaarel took another swig from his canteen, having switched from the mystery booze to water. Or something approaching water- for all he knew, it was repurposed piss.

He knew that she was coming long before she sat, but it surprised him nonetheless. Colonel Vandilus wasn't exactly known as a personable individual. Tiredly, Kaarel gave the stern-faced woman a half-hearted salute, his eyes rooted to the damp mud beneath the scaffold he was currently sitting on.

They were silent for a while, and Kaarel was more than fine with that, if not a little uncomfortable. Then, to his surprise, she broke the silence.

"How long has it been since the Thirteenth Crusade? How many battles have we fought since then?"

Kaarel sighed, massaging his temple in a vain attempt to rid himself of his infernal headache.

"It's hard to tell, isn't it. With Warp-travel being the way that it is… who knows? All I know is that I've fought more battles than I'd care to remember since the homeworld was razed."

"All due respect, ma'am, but what's your point?"

"Strohmann was a damn good man. But you can't blame yourself for his death- especially now, in the midst of this campaign. He's at the Emperor's side now, and that's just the way it works. Tomorrow, it could be you, or Anna, or any number of the 4,000 guardsmen in this regiment that dies. Hell, a rebel marauder could fly over and kill us both where we sit."

Kaarel smirked.

"Is that supposed to be reassuring, Colonel?"

For the first, and probably last time in his life, he saw Colonel Celine Vandilius crack a smile.

"More or less. I just need you at your best, Kaarel. You and the other squadrons are my eyes and ears when we're in the field, and I'm counting on you. I know you cared for Ricardo, but being, well, an _ass_ to Keyes will solve nothing."

Kaarel sighed.

"Is he even Cadian?"

Vandilius smiled again.

"The planet he was born on doesn't matter here, Kaarel. You should know that by now. If he's with us now, he's as good as a Cadian."

"I suppose."

"I'm counting on you, Kaarel. Emperor knows, the entire regiment is. Don't let us down."

"I'll try not to, ma'am."

She slapped his shoulder, deftly hopping down from the scaffold and greeting her relaxing command squad with some curt orders.

* * *

When he returned to the tent, he smiled reassuringly at Anna, making a beeline for the young replacement. The man looked startled, and more than a little intimidated, and saluted.

"At ease, Graig. I wanted… I wanted to apologize. It's been a rough campaign, and the man you're replacing… well, he was a good man. It's unfair of me to resent you for doing your duty. Welcome to Gamma Squadron."

He extended his hand, grasping the young private's clammy hand, slapping him on the back and returning to his bunk, his mind a little more at ease than it was before.

* * *

Hoteskaf woke with a start. How long had he been sleeping? Last he remembered, he had been following his brother into a cave, excited to explore the wondrous mysteries of…

He looked down, regarding his metallic body with its glowing, green cables and wires. Panic registered in his mind for a split second before it was utterly crushed by his mind.

He rose, disconnecting the cables that attached him to his arcane sarcophagus. He regarding the sleek, obsidian structures around him and idly wondered why he had awoken. He summoned a servant, and a scarab chittered towards him, transmitting its data to his cerebral processor.

 _So, war rages above,_ he thought, idly.

 _My former brethren pollute the world above with their presence. We of the Necrontyr will purge it,_ he thought, his transmission surging through the circuits of the Tomb World, activating the legions he was responsible for in preparation for war.

* * *

 **Hey all!**

 _ **So**_ **sorry about the hiatus there. Things have been pretty hectic, but I'm a lot more free now, so I'm going to try my best to update when I can.**

 **I know not a lot happened this chapter (had enough foreshadowing yet?) but I assure that stuff will start going down as we progress. Also, just a fair warning- given that this is a Fanfiction site, I'm hoping to begin writing a long-form story (possibly even on the scale of the Horus Heresy novels, but I'm not sure about that yet) detailing the fabled End Times. Or at least my take on that- so the status quo will _not_ necessarily be upheld in this story. **

**Thanks for all of your support!**

 **Regards,**

 **IGdude117**


	7. Chapter 7: Meeting Engagement

"Wulfric Bastion," Colonel Vandilus said authoritatively, pacing in front of a large projector showing the massive complex.

"The last major stronghold of the Rebels on this battlezone, Wulfric Bastion is one of the larger arms depots on the planet. As such, it is heavily defended, and is a major strategic objective for the overall campaign; the capture of this complex will deprive the Rebel armies of valuable vehicles and weaponry in the coming battles. High General Constans, as such, has named it the lynchpin for this entire operation."

The large prefab headquarters building was filled to the brim with the officers of the 413th Regiment. Every Lieutenant, Captain, and senior NCO from the 413th was here- even the ever-entertaining and Bone'ead Traghok of the regiment's Ogryn contingent.

"General Constans has allocated a large amount of resources to this assault. The Cadian 102nd Infantry and 12th Armored will be fighting by our side, as well as around 15 regiments ranging from Vostroyan Firstborn, Armageddon Steel Legion, and Death Korps of Krieg."

"Before you all start looting a dead body, make sure it isn't a skull-head taking cover!" joked a Stormtrooper Sergeant at the left side of the room, drawing laughs from most of the crowd.

Colonel Vandilius' face remained unchanged.

"This regiment will be on the left flank. The 23rd Pronian Guard will be on our right, with the 902nd Vardan to our left. Our objective is to take and hold Fort Anael. It's an infantry staging area to facilitate counterattacks, and we anticipate that it will be heavily defended. That means flak cannons, Lascannons, missile launchers, you name it. Anything we have, they have as well. If they have armor, either our Sentinels will take them out, or the two squadrons of Leman Russes loaned to us by the 23rd Pronian will take care of it."

A holographic image of the fort came up. It was relatively straightforward in its design- a squarish complex of ferrocrete with multi-tiered platforms for infantry or emplacements to fire out of. Tall prefab bastion-towers rose every 50 meters or so, bristling with flak cannons and lascannon emplacements.

"Army Group Intelligence indicates that around a regiment's worth of the Republican Defense Forces will be in the fort. They're little more than PDF, but they do have some training, and dangerous weapons to use, so don't get cocky. You'll get your individual assignments via data-slate in fifteen minutes or so, so brief your various groups as you will. Any questions?"

The room was silent, and the various officers- some in their armor, others in casual fatigues- looked ready to go.

"Good. When this is over, our role in this campaign will be largely over. I've been told that the Army Group might stay around on Highgate for garrison duty for a year or two after the cessation of hostilities. If you fight well for the regiment and the Emperor, you will have earned your rest. Father Carro?"

The gruff old man stood, making the sign of the aquila on his chest. The room mirrored the movement, the chatter falling into a somber silence.

"Emperor, guide our hands in the flames of battle to come."

 _Ave Imperator_

"Forge us in the fires of war to better serve you and the Imperium of Man."

 _Ave Imperator_

"Instill in us a hatred for the enemy so that we may show no mercy to those that would undermine our great empire."

 _Ave Imperator_

"And give to us the fervor and strength to fight Mankind's wars and the evils of temptation."

 _Ave Imperator_

"Fight well, brothers and sisters, in the Emperor's name. And if you shall fall in the field of battle, know that the Emperor has a place for you by his side."

 _The Emperor Protects_

For the first time in a long time, Kaarel felt something. Piety had never been his strong suit, but the old priest's words had touched him. A sort of bubbling excitement built in him- anger as well. He would make the bastards pay for killing Ric, if it killed him.

* * *

Ranger Kaytela approached the meditative form of Farseer Caerys respectfully, maintaining her distance. She had known Caerys Evenbow for decades now, but after her tenacious leadership during the Kaurava campaign… her respect for her farseer had understandably increased. Now, she knew without a doubt that she would follow Caerys into the very depths of _Sha'eil_.

The Farseer turned her head almost imperceptibly, her psychic aura diminishing as her meditation ended.

"Kaytela. You have something for me?"

"Yes. The _mon-keigh_ Imperials make ready to assault their brethren. The others believe that the fight will last another week."

"I see. And how fares the Talisman of Vaul?"

"Better than previously hoped. Captain Lauvel reports that the tides of the _Sha'eil_ are favorable to us. He will be here in two weeks, perhaps one."

Caerys nodded, her face solemn.

"You are troubled, Kaytela. Tell me what troubles you."

The Ranger approached tentatively, sitting on the grass by her Farseer peacefully, ignoring the far-distant sounds of death and destruction.

"I find myself… troubled. Something feels wrong, and it has felt wrong in recent days. I fear that something evil approaches."

Caerys nodded.

"Your heart is true, Ranger. The Seer Council has foreseen that the _Rhana Dandra_ approaches."

Despite herself, Kaytela's jaw dropped in shock. The mythical final battle between the Eldar and the forces of Chaos had always been murmured and whispered about through the halls of Ulthwe, but there had never been much stock put upon the legendary end times.

"How? Why?"

"The mon-keigh Emperor will expire, and their homeworld will be embroiled by chaos. Their empire will fracture as their- and our- enemies close in. The Seers cannot see too far in the future, but they know that the war will be the worst the Galaxy has ever seen. Heroes will rise, billions will die, and something will happen that will change the course of reality forever."

"Is that why we are here?"

Caerys nodded, slowly.

"If the Necrontyr escape this planet, it will begin a chain of events that could very well mean the end of _everything_. If there is a chance that we can avert it- or even delay it- then I am willing to fight and die for that chance."

Kaytela smiled reassuringly; there was that fervor that she had come to love.

In the distance, the usual ambient noise of explosions and gunfire intensified, and a wing of noisy Imperial planes roared overhead, breaking their meditation.

"It has begun."

* * *

An explosion- probably a mortar- detonated nearby, causing Salena to lurch to left and nearly causing Kaarel to lose his rations.

"Frak, that was close. Graig, Anna, spread yourselves out."

 _ **Nice knowing I might survive a stiff breeze,**_ Anna said, sarcastically.

A red flashing caught Kaarel's eye, and he looked up, pulling down the target locator with his right hand and pressing his eye to it. He manipulated the controls, centering the crosshairs on a Salamander Scout vehicle sallying out of Fort Anael. Grinning savagely and suppressing a cough, he pressed down on the firing trigger, his heart pounding as his autocannon fired a slew of rounds towards the APC, the high-velocity bullets ripping through the vehicle with ease.

Kaarel laughed, letting out a whoop as the acrid tang of propellant and the heated barrel leaked into his cockpit.

"That's five for me now! How are we doing?"

 _ **Gamma One is good.**_

"Kid, how're you doing?"

The slightly panicked voice of Graig Keyes came on the vox-net, the sound of his multilaser firing making the comms-feed scratchy and barely audible.

 _ **Gamm… wo… ominal con...ition**_

"Glad to hear it. Follow my lead- we're adjusting to heading 350. Footsloggers made a whole, but the rebs are pouring out of it. Emperor Protects!"

Kaarel hit the brakes, and Salena stopped, her heels digging into the rough ground. She crouched slightly, before sprinting off towards the left, dodging around the still-burning wreckage of an enemy Leman Russ. Kaarel grinned, despite himself. Salena was being particularly responsive to his commands. It had gotten to that point that he so enjoyed- the point where the division between himself and his walker began to fade, and where Salena became closer to an extension of his own body. It was probably the closest he would get to how an Adeptus Titanicus Princeps felt.

A missile corkscrewed towards him, whining potently as he wrenched Salena to the side, leaning to the left as he fired his autocannon blindly at the distant wall, the deadly rounds impacting explosively, tearing chunks out of the ferrocrete, and sending several rebels flying in multiple pieces from their firing positions atop the wall.

He took his eye away from the target-finder, his eyes trained on the main screen as he stomped forward, his eyes landing on the wall-breach where guardsmen were pouring las-fire into a veritable tide of rebels in various states of organization. Then, his heart caught as he caught sight of something.

Another Sentinel. This one was gray- looking like it had just come off the assembly line. It was a standard Mars-Pattern walker, armed with a multilaser. Kaarel found himself laughing ferociously, activating his tactical line to the other Sentinels squadrons.

"All stations, this is Gamma Lead, I've got one hostile Sentinel coming out the left breach. Repeat, one hostile Sentinel out the left breach."

Sergeant Piscella of Delta Squad was the first to answer, as always.

"First man to take that frakker out gets a round of amasec on me!"

Kaarel could just picture the man's shiteating grin.

"Not if I take him first, Nino. May the best man win."

Roaring in anger, Kaarel pushed his throttle as far forward as it could, kicking Salena into a full on sprint as he fired his autocannon in controlled bursts. The first five rounds or so sparked dangerously off of the frontal armor of the enemy walker, which swiveled its cockpit around to fire a concentrated stream of high-intensity las-fire towards him. Salena ducked to the side, and Kaarel laughed again, feeling the vibrations of Salena's claws hitting the ground through every fiber of his body.

The hostile walker fired again, sprinting diagonally in Salena's general direction. It fired again, but Kaarel anticipated it, depressing Salena's legs so that the las-fire scythed harmlessly over head. He lunged forward, smacking into the front of the enemy walker with enough force to slam Kaarel against his seat, hard, knocking the enemy slightly off-balance.

This was his opportunity; quickly, Kaarel manipulated Salena's cockpit to turn to the side as it moved forward, its momentum unstoppable at this point, aiming his autocannon at the unshielded rear axle.

Instead, the enemy Sentinel vanished under a violet storm of plasma-fire, reducing it to a flaming, molten wreckage. Panicked, Kaarel extend Salena's right foot, cutting a massive groove through the mud as he tried to brake in time.

 _ **I guess that means Sergeant Piscella owes me a round of amasec**_ , Anna said cheerfully.

Kaarel laughed, his initial shock (and frustration) evaporating.

"Nice job. Graig, how are you doing?"

 _ **Three kills so far, Sarge!**_

"Good to hear, Private. Rendezvous on my position."

A stray las-bolt impacted off of the front of Salena's armor as Kaarel caught his breath, a persistent beeping indicating that several of Salena's systems were overheating from the exertion he had put on her. He turned the switches off, moving the walker behind several squads of guardsmen and chimeras pushing inside the breach, checking his fuel reserves and ammunition count.

Yet instead of the elation he had been feeling a second ago, he felt… perturbed. In the heat of the moment, he hadn't been conscious of how much he had _enjoyed_ himself. But looking back now…

He shook his head lightly.

He was a member of the Astra Militarum, the Emperor's mailed fist against His enemies. There was no room for mercy or guilt- that much he had learned.

* * *

Inquisitor Galerius breathed in the frigid air of Highgate deeply, his eyes closing in bliss. It had been far too long since he had been planetside, he realized. The heavy footfalls of Triam and his nine brothers roused him from his indulgence, and he turned, looking at the brazen yellows and crimsons of his chapter colors.

"Now remember, Sergeant, I must convene with the xenos and get all the information I can before you can purge them. It is essential for the survival of this system that this happens."

The Sergeant's helmet, a Corvus pattern with laurels atop the visor, nodded wordlessly. Triam gestured his squad away, leaving Galerius alone. He let out a sigh of relief. While Astartes were very useful to have around, their single-minded ferocity often got in the way of Inquisitorial actions. Now that they were willing to wait, Galerius could focus on the task at hand.

He found his hand straying to his holstered bolt pistol and power sword, loosening the clasps on both, in case he ran into trouble.

 _You need not worry about trouble, Inquisitor Galerius. If any will start, it is from the Marines several yards away- not my Guardians._

Cursing inwardly, Galerius steeled his mind, blocking out the probing influence of the Eldar. As if on cue, the Farseer appeared, seemingly materializing out of thin air. Stealth technology, most likely.

"I appreciate the courtesy," he said, sarcastically. He shifted his stance, allowing the Eldar witch to have the dominating position.

The blank mask of the Farseer regarded him noncomittally, before she removed her helmet, revealing a pointed, but beautiful face.

" _Elen sila lumenn omentilmo, Caerys,"_ Galerius said, bowing superfluously.

To his surprise, the Farseer nodded curtly in reply.

"What news do you have for me, _mon-keigh_?"

Galerius sighed. These Ulthwe types were so straight to the point. At least some of the other Craftworlders bandied words a bit before moving on.

"Well, an Imperial ship sighted the Talisman entering the Warp near the Eye of Terror, but their reports were mostly dismissed. As far as we know, none of the Chaos fleets in the area knew that a Talisman was on the move, though we feel safe in inferring that some of their psykers sensed it."

Caerys' face was unchanging.

"I asked for _news,_ Imperial. I did not ask for this meeting to be told what I already know."

Galerius was taken aback. His ire rose for a brief moment, but his mental shield prevented _her_ from being able to sense that. He calmed himself with a quick breath.

"I have more news. The Blood Angels Chapter _finally_ submitted to Inquisitorial demands, allowing us access to their records for the Gehenna campaign. _Apparently_ \- around four or five years ago, they came across a Necron individual known as the Silent King. I believe in your tongue, he is known as _Szarekh_. He and the Astartes fought initially, but united when a Tyranid fleet appeared in orbit. Reports are that he is going from tomb world to tomb world to awaken the Necrontyr once and for all."

Caerys' face reacted for once, and a slight frown tugged at the sides of her mouth.

" _Szarekh_ has returned? That is dire news, indeed. I had heard rumors, but I thank you for confirming this."

"So what is the plan, Farseer? It seems your Seer Council and my superiors have seen fit to align our interests for the time being."

She nodded again, looking about as pleased as he felt about the whole mess.

"The Talisman is set to arrive within a week or so. When that happens, my strike force and I will leave this place and ensure that the Talisman activates and destroys this world. Until then, we will try to keep the Rebels in the war, to continue distracting the _Yngir_."

Galerius grimaced. He had received the orders earlier, but to hear it from her lips- that they would be callously discarding the lives of all the guardsmen fighting on the planet- was vexing. Yet he had dispensed Exterminatus orders before, so he was no stranger to sacrifice. These were his orders, after all, and he intended to follow them as best he could. Perhaps becoming _Lord_ Inquisitor Galerius would make everything worth it.

"Then I shall work to keep my side in the war. Anything else?"

"Yes, actually. A warning: my strike force has felt something foreboding about this debacle. I know not what it is, but my heart tells me to be wary. Ensure that you are, too."

" _Tenna' ento lye omenta."_

" _Tenna' san',"_ she replied, before vanishing.

As if on cue, a bolter round hissed through the space formerly occupied by the Farseer, detonating with explosive force on a boulder nearby. Sergeant Tristram, clutching a smoking bolt-pistol, stalked out of his squad's cover, his gait livid as he tore his helmet off in anger.

"We had an agreement, _Inquisitor_. I accompany you, you ensure I find my quarry. You have impugned the honor of my-"

"Sergeant, relax. You will get another chance. Plus, they were waiting for us. It could have been a massacre, if they had willed it."

The sergeant looked at him glaringly, and Galerius was briefly afraid he had offended the Astartes. It was bad enough offending an Astartes, but one belonging to a chapter notorious for holding grudges? Madness.

"Take care, _Inquisitor_ , that you do not become too friendly to the xenos witch."

Galerius took care to keep his face calm and composed, but he was secretly afraid of the genetically-engineered superhuman. They still scared the shit out of him every now and then.

"Let us return to our ships. We'll meet in General Constans' headquarters."

Triam looked at him impassively, turning curtly with a dark look on his face. As his squad of marines receded, a heavy-footed sound came from behind him. He turned, looking up at the similarly tall form clad in silver armor with white and red cloth.

"Sister-Superior Lynais, well met."

The Sister looked at him with a slightly bemused expression. By any standard, the Sister was a beautiful woman, with black, sleek hair and tanned, light brown skin. Her eyes were green- a piercing green- and carried a mirth not often seen amongst the Sororitas.

"You ought to be more careful with Sergeant Triam," she said, shouldering her bolter as her four sisters spread out, ensuring none of the Eldar or Space Marines remained.

"He's a Howling Griffon- they descended from the Ultramarines, and you _know_ how stubborn they can be."

"It's not as if I have a choice. My orders are to collaborate with the xenos to accomplish our goal. Given that the damned Necrons will be phasing to the surface any minute now, I'll need every bolter I can get. Besides, when our business here is over, I couldn't care less about Caerys- Triam can have her, for all I care."

Lynais smiled, looking at the distant flashes of artillery that were gradually lessening in their intensity.

"It looks like the battle is beginning to wrap up. That can't be good."

"No, it can't," Galerius agreed.

"We'll have to do something about that."

* * *

Fort Anael had fallen silent, for the most part, and the Cadian 413th had taken it successfully, now fortifying its position against attack. The battle for Wulfric Bastion had been a mixed success, as reports had it. The left flank assault had been successful, and the Imperium had taken a vast swath of forts and defense lines. The center had been moderately successful, making a foothold through the central gate, but the right flank had failed altogether, and the Death Korps of Krieg had faltered in their assault, digging their damned trenches as they were prone to do.

Kaarel stood near Salena, looking up at the walker as the regimental techs swarmed over it. Luc Wanner had come forward with the regimental supply section, and had shook his head in anger and exasperation upon seeing the dents and scorch marks that covered Salena after the battle.

To make matters worse, Enginseer Ostalan had stalked over, admonished Kaarel for his ' **++careless treatment of the Omnissiah's machines++** ' and grumbled to himself in screeching-loud binary as he ordered his servitors over.

The activity had finally died off, however, and they had three or four hours before they were expected to go back on patrol, delving deep into the Bastion-City itself to scout out enemy positions.

He stood in the light rain, his helmet on, smoking a lho stick and reflecting on all that had happened. The pungent smoke electrified him a little, and his muscles relaxed, prompting him to yawn. His goggles slipped slightly catching on the aquila on the forehead of his helmet as thunder- or artillery- rumbled in the distance.

The squelching of mud came beside him, and he was greeted by the tired-looking form of Sergeant De Burgos. Besides his own squad members and a few officers and troopers in the Infantry sections, De Burgos was the closest thing he had to a friend amongst the other Sentinel pilots.

"Alvaro," Kaarel said, tiredly.

The tireless jokester looked different now- more haggard, pale, and tired than he had usually been, his usually well-groomed moustache and beard now shaggy and unkempt.

"Kaarel."

Kaarel passed his lho-stick to the tired sergeant, and the man took it gratefully, taking a deep drag as he stepped backwards into the canvas covering that protected the two pilots from the torrential rain.

"I'm sorry about your squad," Kaarel said, when Alvaro had passed the lho-stick back.

Disastrously, Alvaro had lost his entire squad after several rebel Earthshaker rounds had caught his squadron mid-transit. His own Sentinel had been crippled by the round, but the sergeant had escaped unscathed. Now, thanks to his having lost both his squad and his own Sentinel, he was being reassigned to the technical squads to help in repair and maintenance activities- the closest one could get to a relaxing life in the frontlines. Stern she might be, Colonel Vandilus was a fair leader, and looked out for her soldiers.

"Yeah," he replied, simply.

"Fragged beyond all recognition, isn't it?"

He chuckled weakly. His eyes stared, fixated on the ground, seeing nothing and everything at the same time. It was a classic 1,000 meter stare.

"You can say that again."

Kaarel and Alvaro stood there in silence for a while, as the rain did its best to soak them, unsuccessfully pattering on the canvas cover, providing a somewhat relaxing ambiance.

"Hey, Kaarel…"

"Yeah?"

"You think the Emperor really is watching over us?"

Kaarel looked around in fear.

"Creed's arse, Alvaro, you'd best hope Commissar Dreetzman didn't hear that. That's borderline heresy."

He looked at Kaarel intently, his eyes blank and desperate.

"But how _can_ He be watching over us, Kaarel? How can He let billions of us die for some lousy staging ground or depot?! What the frak kind of grox-shit is that? Why the frak are we _here,_ fighting over this piece-of-shit armory when we could be defending the homelands from the _frakking_ crusaders?! I mean, for Macharius' sake, Kaarel, you lost family in the last Crusade, right? Emperor knows _I_ did. My five brothers, my three sisters, my twelve cousins, and my frakking parents all died during the 13th Crusade, and what do I have to show for it? Some phony metals pinned on my frakking chest by some self-loving-"

"Just stop."

Alvaro caught himself, silencing his rant.

"I'm sorry."

Kaarel handed him the lho-stick, holding the man's shoulder briefly.

"We all think about it, Alvaro. We just don't say it. We don't fight for our officers or some code of _honor_ … we fight for the men and women in the trenches beside us, and for the billions of civvies back home who depend on us to survive."

With that, he left Alvaro beneath the canvas tent, laying a hand on the wet surface of Salena's joint before making his way back to the barracks.

It had been a long day.

* * *

 **Hey all! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Things are picking up, so chapters will hopefully be getting more action packed as we go along.**

 **Credit for the idea about the Silent King plotline goes to BIBOTOT- thanks for you support.**

 **As always, feel free to leave feedback, and thank you all so much for your continued readership. I truly appreciate it.**

- **IGdude117**


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